


When Blue Met Green

by Nahmar



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Flower Child Harry, Harry is running his mom's flower shop for the day, Harry then has to make a tough decision, Louis is a photographer, M/M, So basically it's Flower Child!Harry and Chanel!Louis, then Louis comes in and offers him a job at Chanel modeling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:02:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nahmar/pseuds/Nahmar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my try at a Larry fanfiction. It would be chill if you could spread the word about it. Flower Child!Harry and Chanel!Louis</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything Has Changed

"You never make eye contact with me anymore! You can't say a word to me! You've been living in your own guilt for months, so just say it! Say those stupid words! Go ahead! Get it off your chest! Say you cheated on me!" I screamed at him after throwing a vase that had meant more than just a simple vase to us. It was in our house. It was the vase that he had put the flowers I had given to him the night that he had first asked me on a date. It was the vase that held our flowers we picked at the wedding recital. It was the vase that held our love together. Our memories. Our cherished lives we spent together. We had gone through thick and thin. For better or for worse. We kept our vows. Or at least, I did. 

"That's it, this is the last straw! If you don't fess up, you can grab all your stuff and leave right now! I don't care! Take your shit with you and get out!" I yelled after not even giving him a chance to speak, breathing out the fury in my heart so much that I was going hoarse and taking on the heavy breathing, though I knew yelling wouldn't help my asthma. 

I was standing in my boxers with no shirt on, frazzled hair, and tired eyes with bags under them, unable to sleep for at least two weeks. I had been searching for evidence that he had done the deed with him, that stupid Irish blonde for three weeks. I hadn't slept a wink, and it was taking a toll on my sanity. I had just destroyed our most prized possession by throwing it by his head. Of course I would never be able to bring myself to actually throw it at him. I couldn't hurt him. I couldn't hurt him like he was hurting me either. I just couldn't get over the betrayal that I was going insane over. 

He stayed where he was standing in his robe, eyes still heavy from the flight he had just taken to America for a business trip. He had left me all alone in our large house on the outskirts of London. I loved the place, and we had been designing it ever since we had started dating, and it was just built about four months ago. 

He began walking towards the kitchen from where he was standing in the dining room, his slippers crunching on the broken porcelain that lie on the floor, shattered like my state of mind. I was in misery, absolute chaos was the only thing that ran through my head, other than the thought that he had been cheating on me. 

He came back a moment later with a red little inhaler, and slid it over the wooden table towards me, and I just kept staring at him with the most pleading green eyes that I could have ever shown him. I couldn't take the silence any longer, and I certainly wouldn't be able to take the heartache of him admitting that he had cheated. Everything for us was going wrong and he knew that I was fragile lately. The heartbreak of getting back up and doing it all again was taking it's toll on both of us. Him having to take care of me, and me having to completely tear myself apart because of one suspicion. 

I just let the inhaler sit there on the table as I let some tears fall from my eyes. 

"Did you cheat on me?" I ask, and he just kept looking at me with a look that said, 'Harry, it's late. Can't we fight this battle at a different time rather than three in the morning?'.

"I said, did you cheat on me?" I ask, pounding my fist down on the wooden table that shook under the pressure of my heavy handed fist that smacked it right upside it's face. 

He continued to look at me with those crystal grey eyes and those lazy bags under his eyes with those perfect cheekbones , extremely prominent from the lack of opportunity of him to eat with him having to take care of me half of the day, and having someone else to come look after me the other half. Of course, his busy schedule only allowed him to be able to take the nights, unless it was a Saturday, which he got the whole day with me. Lucky him. But he usually wasn't there. He was off with that little blonde slut at his work. His assistant, Niall. Who I knew he was cheating on me with. I knew it. It was driving me crazy from the lack of evidence, but I knew he had. It was killing me inside. I had to know. I had to know. 

I would look in the sheets for a hair, just one blonde hair. That's all I needed. But there was none to be found. 

I would look in the cars to find any receipts from places he normally wouldn't eat at. 

I looked to see if the seat was adjusted to a different length for a shorter person.

But nothing. No evidence, no nothing. 

My arms folded over my bare, tattooed chest, and I looked at him sternly, knowing we both wouldn't sleep until I had tricked him into thinking I had fallen asleep. Then that's when I would go look. They thought I was crazy. Oh, they all did, and I knew it. I just couldn't take the horror of knowing there was some form of evidence out there just waiting to be found on one of his shirts, some bill of dry cleaning, some track that he didn't bother to cover up. But he was meticulous. He was everything that I wanted him not to be. Oh, he was mischievous. Kicking me while I was down. 

His eyes looked like they hurt too. They hurt because he had ruined everything we had. He had ruined our lives together, our possible future, our past memories, everything. 

"Yes, Harry, I cheated on you."

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Picking the petals off of one of the flowers that I had lying around on the counter, and smiling down at my swinging legs. I sprinkled the petals on the white tiled floor that had some stray dirt in the corners of the shop, and dead petals lying around in various spots for me to sweep up later on when my shift ended. I had a wreath of flowers crowned around my head. Specifically, daisies and roses. I made them for some hipster customers that would come in and buy them for way more than they were actually worth. But I also made them for myself. Because I was the London flowerboy. I was the kid who worked in his mum's flower shop and managed it on Saturdays, Sundays, Mondays, holidays, and helped at special events like weddings or funerals. I didn't mind it. I actually quite enjoyed my job. I earned my pay and it was the family business. I was well known around London. I went to online university part time, and worked here in the shop as well. It was actually a pretty fair balance, especially since i was so grateful that I got to get this education. 

But I was, admittedly, very particular about my work. Even though it may not seem that way since I just told you that I had been letting petals fall to the floor by the power of my fingertips. 

I had every flower organized by color, labeled by name, and every flower was in it's place. Every thorn was cut, ever stem was trimmed at the right angle, and every leaf was shaped up to par, if it even had leaves at all. 

Each color had it's meaning to me, and every meaning had a sub context to it that made it that much more enchanting. I loved this place. I was in my environment here. I was comfortable, at ease, and stress free here. It was incredible and I loved it so much. I couldn't have imagined a better job. 

The little brass bell had let out a clang and my head immediately looked up from where it was looking down at the sunflower petaled mess that was on the floor now. It was about eight forty-seven, thirteen minutes until closing time, and someone had come in on Mother's day. What a procrastinator they must have been. 

"Hello, sir, how may I help you? Would you be interested in a special daily arrangement for that special someone, or would you possibly be intrigued by our Mother's day assortment?" I ask, going through the routine like normal. Until I looked up to find out where he was. He was browsing through the aisles so I could only see the back of his coat, but I could tell that there was something mysterious about him. He was looking through all the different colors of roses we had dyed for Mother’s day and preserved with some chemicals that we kept in the back room with all the gardening tools.

“Where do your flowers come from, exactly?” He asks, picking up a blue rose and inspecting the stem of it. I didn't know if he was looking at the art of the leaves we put into it, or maybe the lack of thorns that we cut off for the purpose of people not hurting themselves on the flowers. Our theory was that people shouldn’t be hurt by such beauty. 

“Our rooftop garden. They’re all grown up on the roof.” I say with a smile as I ran a hand through my curls. I watched as the man turned to me, and his blue eyes met my green ones. When blue met green, it was like a masterpiece painting had just been completed. I felt myself begin to blush as he went from a stony expression to a soft smile in a matter of a millisecond. 

“You have a rooftop garden? That’s fascinating. Do you live upstairs?” He asked, and I nodded. He smiled a bit and looked me over for a second, just observing in my features and outfit. I was wearing a pair of blue overalls with a yellow top underneath, some white chuck taylors, and my hair was a mess, but it was all from a long holiday of work. I worked hard at my job, and especially during a busy holiday like today. I got paid a good a fitting amount, and I really appreciated that my mother had let me work in her shop that she had raised from the dirt.

“Yeah, with my mum and sister. I go to online university after and before work, and when I have my days off.” I tell him, and he nods, looking at the flowers again, inspecting each one to compare it’s beauty to whomever he was going to be giving the flowers he looked to soon be purchasing.

“I can show you the garden if you’d like.” I offer to him, and he smiled a bit, and nodded, taking the rose with him after shuffling through his pockets and laying down a ten pound bill on the counter that I had been sitting down. His arm brushed against my hip, and I saw that he was a bit shorter than me, and it made me smile a bit. 

I lead him to the stairwell and up two flights of steps up to the door that lead to the rooftop. The red paint on the door was peeling, and a few splinters were showing through the wood, and it just reminded me of how familiar I was with this place. I had lived here since I was two, and I only remembered everything since I was about five anyways, so I had always lived here. This place was home to me. I remembered getting little flower crowns made of daisies with my sister from my mother when I was just a kid, and blowing bubbles on the sidewalk. It would subtly attract customers, but also keep my sister and I occupied.

I also had fond memories of the rooftop. I remember when I was a teen, I would take my dates up on the rooftop, and my mother would have set up a little lighted garden area with beautiful flowers and a little round glass table for us to sit and eat homemade lasagna that Mum she would make for us to share. It was wonderful, and I absolutely loved the idea of doing it again. But frankly, romance wasn’t on my mind lately. I was definitely more focused on school at the moment rather than be worrying about maintaining some type of demanding relationship. I just wanted to have all my attention on my education that my mother was graciously paying for. I couldn’t thank her enough for doing that for me, but help her out in the shop whenever something happened, like an emergency or something like that.  
“Are you ready?” I asked him as I pushed on the metal bar that opened the latch to the door, and I let in some setting sunlight into the dark stairwell. I made my way onto the large rooftop, and I smiled at all the beautiful flowers growing around us. He followed behind me, and I watched as his face had lit up a bit. He had looked stressed, and I knew he needed to see this when he walked in. It was a magical place with lights strung around the edges of the ledges that you could look over and see the London traffic and tourists below. It was honestly enchanting. I was in love with this place. It had my heart for the moment, and I wasn’t expecting anything, or anyone, to take it from here. 

“This is amazing. How do you get them to grow like that?” He asked, motioning to the rows of bushes and flowers and stems and leaves and, well everything. 

“Well, fresh soil, lots of fertilizer and water, and a prime spot in the city. It’s not often you have organically grown flowers in a flower shop, is it?” I smiled towards him with my rows of teeth showing and my dimples also popping out for him to see. He was a very handsome man with gorgeous cheekbones, bright grey eyes, and long eyelashes to compliment them. He was thin and small, but it was also adoring that he was a bit smaller than I was. He looked to be around my age, and I couldn’t help but stare at him. In my defence, he was staring back at me, so it was only fair of me to. 

I walked over to the ledge and looked down at the city below and looked around at all the gorgeous architecture to the city, and looked around to see all sorts of marvellous buildings and breathtaking gardens. It was simply astonishing. I couldn’t ever imagining moving away from here. But I knew I would have to someday. Someday I would get married, have kids, and have to move out. But for now, I was contempt with living here with nothing but a daydream to be something bigger than what I already was. 

He had followed me and rested his hands on the brick ledge, causing his jacket sleeves to rise a bit and reveal a few tattoos he had. It made me smile a little because he already knew I had quite the collection on me as well, so it was only comforting to see that he totally approved of them as well. 

His index finger inched it’s way over to mine, and I smiled and blushed, looking the opposite direction when I felt it come in contact with my pinky finger. His hand was small like he was, and frankly I had big hands, so I was a bit intimidated by the fact that he wanted to hold my hand. 

I turned my hand over and I looked down at the people below who would occasionally look up at us, and I couldn't help but smile down at them as well. The feeling of his fingers tracing the wrinkles in my palm was enchanting, and I felt myself blush even fiercer than before, and it was almost magical. 

I felt the rush of adrenaline as he closed his hand in mine and I did the same back, and he dropped our hands by our sides, inching closer to me. I barely even knew the guy and I had taken him to my favorite place in the whole wide world. Not to mention, I had just completely left the shop abandoned downstairs. Oops.

“I need to get back to the shop, I’m sorry. Maybe you can come back another day. I usually work weekends and Mondays.” I tell him, letting go of his hand and facing towards him with a little outtake of breath.

He nods and smiled a little, his perfect teeth showing above the growing night life of the city below us. It was a magical time, and he obviously seemed to know it. I could tell he didn’t want to go, so he left me with something big to think about next.

“Well, before you go, I have a big question for you to ponder after I’m gone. You may have heard of the company Chanel, yes?” He asked, and I nodded, eyeing him curiously, getting a hint of where this was going.

“Well, I think you would be a great model for the company. I work there, and if you get a modeling portfolio done, that would be a great way to make money if they hire you. I can put in a good work. Here’s my card. call me if you want to start setting up that portfolio.” He said and smiled genuinely, handing me his card before going back through the door and down the steps. 

I stared down at the card as I sat on the ledge, forgetting all about leaving the shop open with no one to manage it. It didn’t matter right now. I needed to figure out what I wanted. 

I always did want to be noticed around town and around the world. A bit famous, but not too famous. And this would create the perfect opportunity. Models usually don’t get too well known or swarmed, so it should be fine. But of course, I would have to take it up with my mother. I knew she probably wouldn’t want me to go off and do a modeling career when I was working on university, plus working at the flower shop. Probability was that I wouldn't be able to do two at the same time. It would become too problematic and insane for me to handle two jobs at once. 

As I got up from where I was sitting soon after he had left, I pulled the door and began going down the stairs with ease, but a heavy weight on my shoulders. I was unsure of what to do. I really wanted to be able to accept this job offer, but it wasn’t even sure that I would be getting it anyways. I was only going to be setting up a portfolio if I even did it. It was going to take a while to even get it through too, if I did it. There were a lot of cons so far.

I walked towards the front glass door on the rounded side building and flipped the sign to ‘closed’, and got out the broom from the back room and began sweeping all the petals and dirt into a dustpan, unable to concentrate on my job. It was impossible to focus with the possibility of me being a model on the line here. It was going to be insane if I got the job, and I knew I was ready for something like that. It was just a matter of how willing I was to let myself fall into this life. 

After I cleaned the mess up off the floor, I went to go put the money he had left into the register and put the change he had left behind, which was actually a lot, into my pocket. That was the only tip I had gotten all day. I bet this guy had money, then. 

Who even was that guy? Pulling the business card back out from the front pocket in my overalls, I checked the card to see as much information about this guy as I could get. 

His name was Louis Tomlinson. He was a photographer for the models, and he also helped manage the runway shows. He was also a big flirt, it seemed. Hell, I didn't even know if he was gay or bisexual, pansexual, or even straight!

He was definitely something to see, though. He was absolutely perfect and I certainly didn’t want to just brush off the fact he had held my hand. But that didn’t mean much. He was very mysterious, and I was worried he might be a big creep as well. I didn’t really know anything about, which my mother would scold me for eventually. 

But for now, all I had on my mind was his offer. 

Modeling. Who even was I to model? I was decent looking, sure, but was I good enough to model? I didn’t know, exactly. I was already nervous about what they would say and I hadn’t even made a decision yet. I knew something had to go right, though. It was inevitable. I felt it in my bones. Something good would turn out of this.


	2. Numb

Gemma smiled and looked at me with her matching green eyes as to mine, and she slapped her hand across my broad back. 

“Well I think you should go for it. It’s what you've always wanted and now you have a great opportunity.” She said and moved her hand around to my shoulder and patted it gently. It was a soothing and assuring movement but I knew that she didn’t really support my decision. 

She and my mother both agreed that I should go for it and move onto my own life. They thought I needed to get out and stop being so closed-minded about the world. They thought I needed to go out and experiment and just take a break from everything. They were wrong.

I had chosen to stay here in the flower shop and nobody it seemed agreed with me on this. Gemma was trying to convince me otherwise, telling me that I absolutely needed to take the job and do the modeling career that we all knew I had always kinda wanted. Just on a more minor scale. 

But I personally felt like I had an obligation for the florist career. I felt like since I was the next in line, and the one to keep the Styles’ name, I would be the heir to the shop. But I guess my mother always figured it would be Gemma because she seemed like she really wanted me to go out on my own now. 

“Look, I really like it here. If you want my room or something I’ll give it to you, but honestly I can’t just tear myself away from all of this. I have an attachment. I have an obligation. I’m supposed to be working here. I owe mum so much. We both do.”

“You’ve definitely done more than enough to help mum. You take the holidays, which originally we were supposed to share. You’ve been handling the shop since we were just teens, and now you’ve started going to uni, plus you got offered a once in a lifetime job, which could definitely help your payment towards mum. This would be so much better for you. I think you should take it. You would be a really good model, Harry.” She tries to insist, and I chew my lip, weighing her pros and cons of everything. She was always great at persuasion. 

“I can’t just call him back. It’s not that simple. Plus, I don’t even know if I could get the job in the first place. He’s only a photographer.” I try to reason with her. By the way she folded her arms over her chest, she didn’t look like she was going to back down on this one. 

“And a runway manager. He could get you places! This guy just bought a rose from you and held your hand. Harry, he already wants to help you! You could be the next Lucky Blue Smith! Runway model by day, actor by night. C’mon, Harry, please take the job!” She pleased, pulling on my left arm. 

I sighed, pulling my arm away from her’s and looking her deep in the eyes. I wasn’t sure that I was even going to get the job, so I guess I would just call. I could just call. It would be the easiest thing to do. Just call up the guy that held my hand on the rooftop and ask, ‘hey can you help me get a job?’. No way, I absolutely not taking his offer. I was going to take the business card and I was going to burn it once I got the chance. I needed to get this off my mind right now. I needed to get away from all this and get back to growing my garden of roses and daisies and tulips and pansies. 

Then again, I would be a pansy if I didn’t take this job.

Why did life have to come with the hardest decisions I have ever had to face in my life?

I groaned and pulled the card out of my pants pocket and looked at it. 

Louis Tomlinson  
Photographer and Runway Manager  
Chanel  
5407987918

It was a bit fancy, a real black card with grey writing on it. It shone under the sunlight that Gemma and I were standing in together. I sighed once more, thinking about how much the future could change if I just took him up on his offer. 

“What are you waiting for? Call him!” She said with eager, pulling on my arm again, really wanting me to take this job. I honestly wasn’t completely sure about it still, but I did what I had to do to make my mum and sister happy. I called. I wanted them to have a good future to, and with this job, I could provide it for them. 

The phone rang three, then four times before I heard a click and a familiarly gentle voice speak over the other end. 

“Hello, you’ve reached Mr. Tomlinson. And who might this be?”

“Harry Styles. The florist boy. I uh, was wondering when we could soon set up an appointment to do that whole portfolio thing?” I say, running a hand through my hair, feeling extremely awkward, not too sure how to hold a formal phone call to save my life. 

“Ah, Harry! Are you free today? I have some spare time during my lunch hour to start to get everything set up for you. Of course, it will take maybe a few days to get everything in order. Today would probably just be getting the pictures done. You get yourself all nice and pretty and I’ll call in a stylist from the business, and we can start getting you ready around noon. How does that sound?” He asked, his voice a little bit high, but still low and just a hint of rasp in it that made it enchanting. I was holding onto every word like it was the ledge of the tallest building in London. 

“Err, sounds great. Thank you so much for this opportunity. See you then.” I say with a bit of hesitancy, but knew it was too late to back out now, and it would be good for me to have some pictures professionally done. I knew that he would be a good source to go to for this since he worked within the company, so I was secretly excited as well. I just couldn’t let Gemma know how excited I was to do this. Because I also didn’t want to get my hopes up. I couldn't let that happen. I didn’t want to have to deal with a huge disappointment. 

I eventually found myself sat in a lobby painted with a large mural of some women seeming like they were having a good time, topless, with a glass of champagne in each of their hands. It was an interesting mural, so I was just going to admire it until someone called my name. 

A woman eventually did, and she introduced herself to me, shaking my hand formally. I was extremely unsure and uneasy about the whole thing, so I just let go of her hand as soon as I could and smiled, following behind her as she led me to the stylists’ and makeup artists were going to be working on me. 

I sat down in one of the plush seats and bounced my knee, picking at my fingernails until a man walked in with some bright pink hair that seemed to be extremely well taken care of and glowing skin with obviously overdone plastic surgery on his cheekbones and chin. 

“You must be Harry! Oh yes, you are definitely as pure as Louis described you. You’ll be very easy to style. I’m thinking about a nice pale lavender sweater, tight white jeans, dark brown boots.. yes, that sounds about right. I’ll ask Jeanine to go easy on the makeup to make it a more natural look. I can see it already. Oh, you’re a shoo in for this job!” He said mostly to himself as he placed his finger on his chin and tapped it with a rhythmic beat to it. He was American, and from the way he acted, one could only assume Los Angeles born and bred. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” I say with a smile, and he just snaps out of whatever had him under his little spell, and he smiled, sticking out his veiny hand for me to shake. 

“Derek. Derek Finch.” He introduced himself as my hand found his and shook it firmly once I stood up. 

After the less than proper introduction, he had to measure me, which went speedily and quickly since I was pretty cooperative and wasn’t very ticklish when he held the tape measure up to me and around me and against me and all sorts of things. I was fine with it, because I knew it was the process.

Once he figured out how to tailor the clothes to fit me, he put them on me once I was finished, not even bothering to let me do it myself. It felt weird, but I knew the reward in the end would be worth it. 

Everything fit better than I ever could have imagined it, and it was very comfortable, surprisingly. They fit better than my clothes at home, and that pleased me in the strangest way. They really knew what they were doing in the fashion industry. 

Next thing they had to do was makeup. Once Derek was completely finished with me, he smiled and exited the room to go fetch the makeup artist. Soon came a knock on the door and I was sitting nervously but eagerly in my seat, bouncing my knee again. I stood up once I saw the woman enter the room, and looked her over for a brief moment before we introduced ourselves and I sat back down in the makeup chair, her hands roaming my face to test my skin and feel my texture and the dryness to it. 

“Hello, Harry. My name is Jeanine and I’ll be doing your makeup today. So Derek tells me to go with something natural, no?” She said in her heavily French accent. Her blonde hair with pale pink highlights was pulled back in a bun on the top of her head. She had on a white coat that had different colored paint splotches on it with a plain black tee on underneath. She had on high waisted baggy blue jeans, and some basic white and purple kicks on her feet.

“That’s what he said. I’m not sure if that’s what you want to go for, though.” I shrugged a bit, not knowing anything about this business and just going on a limb and trying to make it sound like I at least knew a tiny bit about everything that was going on. 

She giggled and smiled as she turned my chair around a bit to show myself in the mirror. “What about hair? What are you thinking about? It’s so long and it looks great on you, but you know, buns on men are also very popular these days. I’m thinking we should pull back your hair and then go for a pale makeup and then send you on your way to your shoot.” She says, and I nod, chewing on my lip.

They never gave you much time to respond here, did they?

She began to pull my hair back with a brush and pulled each individual strand into a hold on the back of my head. 

“So you’re a virgin to the game then, oui?” She spoke with a continuous little grin on her thin lips. Her lips were painted red and her eyes had a black line that led to a perfect wing that definitely suited her eye shape. She was a french beauty. I was surprised she wasn’t a model herself, but her personality definitely showed that she was more than the business. She was some of the art behind it that would never be recognized. 

That’s partially part of the reason that I didn’t want to take the job. I didn’t want me to get the credit for my looks when the editors and designers and makeup artists and everyone who played a part in the business got no credit for perfecting the looks of the models. It was honestly a little disheartening, but the same went for pretty much every other business as well. 

“Yes, actually, I am.” I said with a bit of a sigh. “I don’t even know if I want this job. I just can’t tell if I’m going to be able to move forward with my life. It seems like I’m stuck in this endless loop of a routine everyday and-” I stopped as I saw her smile even wider. I had opened up to her, and I wasn’t completely sure how I should have felt about it. I felt, at the time, that I was making a huge mistake. That I shouldn't have accepted the offer. 

“You don’t need to be so nervous about it.” She said, finishing up with the hairstyle and then moving onto my makeup, spinning my chair around and having me face her and beginning to apply liquid foundation that was absolutely not my color. I wasn’t going to question what she was doing, since she was the professional here. I was assured that she would be the one that knew best about makeup. “If Louis saw this much potential in you, you’re definitely going to be a shoo in for all of this. I can promise you.” She said and began to apply the contour to my cheekbones, jawline, and around my chin. She blended it all and stood back a bit and puckered her lips as she examined her artwork. 

After she was finished looking at me for about a solid minute, she began to apply the white powder to my face to avoid any oils to protrude onto my face as we did the photoshoot.

“I just, I don’t know.” I shrug, and do as she tells me when she instructs me to keep my eyes open and not to blink when she applies the clear gloss onto my eyelashes. I felt like an experimental monkey doing this, but there was something comforting about this as well. It was something different. It felt like something extraordinary was going to come out of this. 

“Trust me, you will know after this photoshoot if it will be right for you. I’m sure you will be joining the company soon enough. They’ll love you. You have a pure look about you that just can’t be found in any ordinary person.” She said with a smile as she chewed on her acrylic nails, stepping back to let me get up out of my chair and she could look me over. 

I stood up and smiled a bit when I looked at myself in the mirror. I had to admit, I looked really good. The colors of the outfit looked very good on me and her makeup job was excellent. I was honestly impressed. I actually looked like a proper model. It was insane. I could finally imagine myself doing this on a daily basis.

“You ready to go out there?” She asked and I nodded, ready to go out and become something I had always dreamt of becoming. I was ready to go out and see the man that had offered me the job in a new light. In a way that would most certainly become something different than just the man who bought a rose and offered me a job.

She lead me out to a completely dark room except for a white curtain a distance in front of some giant lights and a camera. In the space between the objects stood a metal stool that I assumed I would be sitting on for the shoot. 

I saw Louis standing there fiddling around with his camera and i began to make my way towards the man, hearing Jeanine exit the room, the heavy metal door closing behind her.

“Hey, Mr. Tomlinson.” I make my way to him and grin as I watched him turn around to face me. His blue eyes looked me over for a minute and he definitely was impressed because they lit up immediately, like looking at a newly forming star. 

“You don’t have to be formal with me. I’m helping you out, Harry. You look really good.” He complimented me. I just nodded, knowing he would know how to instruct me to do whatever he wanted me to do pose wise. I was here strictly for business, not to be flirted with. 

“You don’t see many people like you in this business these days. All models are in it for the money or the fame but you, Harry you, have something special about you. I don’t know, maybe I’m just going crazy, but I really see something in you.” He says and I grinned a little bit as I looked at him, his arm brushing against mine and causing me to blush underneath all this makeup. 

“What’s special about me? I don’t see anything.” I say quite honestly, not fishing for compliments but simply just wondering what he did see so I could use it for my advantage. 

“Well, for starters, you’re pure. You don’t have a care in the world except your closest friends and family. You’re passionate. You put all your heart and soul into something and you definitely don’t give up when it gets tough. You’re you. And your you is beautiful.” He said with a smile, and his hand went back to brushing against mine. 

“I’ll tell you what, Jeanine is going back to France, and she has invited me and a friend of mine to come with her. I want to take you. I want to show you all the beautiful sights and cities and just help you relax.” He offered with a smile, and I chew on my lip, thinking about it. I guess I did need to relax. And Gemma would kill me if I didn’t take this offer. Might as well, right?

“How much would it be?” I ask. “You know, for all the flights and gas and such?” 

“All expenses paid. I just want to get to know the real you. What’s behind those roses and daisies?” He said with a smile, resting his hand on my shoulder. I shivered slightly and leaned into his touch, feeling his hands wrap around my taller and broader body. I wasn’t sure where this was going but honestly, I hadn't felt the touch of another man in about three years. I had been too occupied with the family business to care anything about it. But now I was realizing that yeah, maybe I did sorta miss the dating life. And yeah, maybe this could blossom into something bigger than just a job. I was just hoping that he wouldn’t reject it. 

And he didn’t.

He pulled me closer, his gentle, nimble fingers tucking away a small curl behind my ear and smiling a bit, his beautiful white teeth shining back to me. This was perfect. I was just happy that he was going along with it as well. 

He cleared his throat and pulled back, taking a few steps away. 

“So, should we get started then?” He asked. I nodded sheepishly and kept my head down as he looked at me and I made my way a bit embarrassed to the stool.

But the only thing that I had on my mind the whole rest of the night was France. And how, ce pourrait être l'amour.


End file.
